


Wager

by AsteroidMiyoko



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Conjunx Endura, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Play (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsteroidMiyoko/pseuds/AsteroidMiyoko
Summary: "How about a wager." Tailgate suggested over his high grade with a dimming of his visor that Cyclonus had come to understand was a wink.Cylonus put his own drink down and leaned in, his companion's playfulness contagious after a long day at work. "What sort of wager?"





	Wager

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deerkota](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerkota/gifts).

"How about a wager." Tailgate suggested over his high grade with a dimming of his visor that Cyclonus had come to understand was a wink.

Cylonus put his own drink down and leaned in, his companion's playfulness contagious after a long day at work. "What sort of wager?"

"I'll bring you to overload, and if you make a noise, you have to buy the drinks next time."

The jet made a show of glancing around. "Surely not here?" For a moment he thought Tailgate had developed a sudden exhibitionist streak, not that he was _absolutely_ against the idea, but-

With a laugh, Tailgate shook his helm. "No, not here," his voice lowered, "Some of the things I want to do to you would be super visible under the table."

Cyclonus coughed loudly in his drink.

Several kliks later he found himself in one of Swerve's supply closets, having been kissed and teased within a klik of his functioning, sitting on a box, with a very eager minibot kneeling between his spread legs. Tailgate giggled and made a "quiet" signal with a servo. They'd agreed that system noises, like the clicks of panels opening and cooling fans coming on, didn't count, but any manner of talking, moaning, and engine growling did. And that was good, because Tailgate wasted no time in dipping his small digits into the seams of Cyclonus' thighs and pelvis, teasing at protoform and plucking at wires, and his cooling fans almost immediately switched to a low setting.

With another wink, Tailgate tapped at Cyclonus' interface panel, and he obediently let it slide open and let his spike pressurize at it's own pace. He had an idea of what would happen next, it was one of his conjunx's favorite things to do in this situation; he'd spread his valve lips slowly, sliding a digit or two inside to tease at interior nodes, and then roll the anterior node with his thumb. Which was why Cyclonus had to resist the urge to ask him what he was doing when his facemask folded down to expose his tiny non-standard intake, and he leaned down with an excited wiggle.

Tailgate nuzzled at his valve, the quickly gathering lubricant making the slide easy, and Cyclonus leaned his helm back against the wall, optics offline, enjoying the slow-building charge. After a few long moments Tailgate drew back, servos squeezing his thighs in their established signal for "don't move", and pushed against Cyclonus' anterior node, the light pressure teasing and-

A sudden suction against his anterior node had Cyclonus instantly locking his joints in place to prevent himself from flying right off of the box. His optics onlined fast enough they produced sparks, and he tilted forward to try and find out what Tailgate was doing. He gripped the sides of the box, cooling fans roaring when he realized that his partner had slotted his node into the circle of his intake, and was very carefully opening and closing the iris to produce the "sucking" motion.

It was one of the most erotic things Cyclonus had ever seen, and his charge built with alarming speed. With a shaking servo, he tried to alert Tailgate, but the mini just gave him a thumb's up and increased the contraction of his iris. One final pull, and Cyclonus' overload washed over him, transfluid from his untouched spike painting his abdomen, almost forcing him into a hard reset. He didn't realize he'd slumped forward until Tailgate pushed his helm up with a laugh.

"I win already." he said proudly, "You said my name."

"Obviously!" the jet croaked out.

To salvage his pride, Cyclonus leaned in to lick the lubricant and smug look off of Tailgate's face. He spun them around so that He was the one on his knees, and Tailgate was on the box, on his back, spread out giggling before him.

"Wait, wait." Tailgate said, getting his laughter under control. "I want my prize to be something else instead of free drinks."

"Oh?" Cyclonus busied himself with lightly scratching the edges of Tailgate's interface panel until it popped open, his valve already soaking wet.

"I want your spike in me, aaaaaand… I want you to ah- talk to me." His voice hitched as Cyclonus traced the outside of his valve with his glossa.

Cyclonus vented, amused. "First you wanted me to be quiet, and now you want me to talk?"

"You got it! Now come kiss me, come on, come on, com-"

With a growl Cyclonus leaned up, covering him with his frame, and kissed him hard, prompting a happy sigh from Tailgate who wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him closer. 

In between kisses to Tailgate's helm and frame, Cyclonus began to voice the thoughts that he usually kept to himself during interface.

"Tell me," he said, running a servo down his abdominal plating to wrap around the white spike, "Have you been soaking wet since you went down on me? Since we entered this room? Since we sat drinking?" He tugged carefully, thumb spreading lubricant that had started to bead on the tip. Tailgate squirmed and vented unevenly under his ministrations.

Cyclonus moved his servo down, parting dripping valve lips with his claws, and delving deep into soft mesh. "I don't know if I even need to prepare you…" His own spike had started to pressurize again, his charge building with the anticipation of being inside his conjunx, who was currently trying to drag him closer with a leg around his waist.

"I think I'll frag you slowly."

Tailgate's visor brightened and he shivered. "But what if someone opens the door?"

"Then they'll close it again if they know what's good for them."

Tailgate's laugh trailed off into a moan as Cyclonus angled his spike against his valve and pushed in inch by inch. A litany of demands for more tumbled from the mini's vocoder, but Cyclonus refused to pick up speed, sliding in and out, a little deeper each time, slowly, slowly, until Tailgate was shaking with need.

"Talk to me-" he begged, gripping Cyclonus' arms hard enough to dent. And so as he thrust rhythmically, he did.

"I would keep you in berth all cycle if I could. I'd tie you to it…"

"Oh Primus-"

"And kiss every micrometer of your frame, worship you the way you deserve, overload you until you couldn't possibly process anything else."

"Yes…ah!"

"You're full of surprises with that intake of yours, so maybe I'd find a gag, especially designed for you. Or maybe I'd just slide one of those rust sticks inside, something for you to eat while I eat you."

Cyclonus intended to draw it out even longer, but their location was indeed precarious, and with the way Tailgate writhed on his spike, he doubted, even having overloaded once already himself, that he would last. He pushed foward firmly, putting pressure on Tailgate's ceiling node just the way he liked it, and held very still.

"Move, slag it!" Came Tailgate's broken cry.

But he refused.

"No, I want you to overload like this."

"I can't-" he tried to move his hips, but Cyclonus held him firm.

"Yes you can. Focus on the pressure. Charge is cycling through your system, jumping between us, direct it towards your ceiling node. Come, imagine what it will feel like when my transfluid hits that node with no where to go, swelling your valve channel until-"

Tailgate's back struts bowed with the force of his overload, optics whiting out and only static from his vocoder. Visible charge licked over his frame, plating flared to release excess heat. Cyclonus watched, mesmerized, until he couldn't fight his own frame's reaction. Pulling out most of the way, he slammed forward once, twice, before his own overload took him. Distantly, he was aware of Tailgate crying out again, scrabbling to grab hold of whatever he could reach to ground himself.

Klicks later, he carefully slid out and gathered Tailgate in his arms, collapsing against the wall of the storage closet.

"Primus fragging pit…" his conjunx mumbled against his chest.

Cyclonus huffed with amusement. "Indeed."

After a few moments of cuddling and letting their systems reset, a knock on the closet door made them freeze.

"Y'all didn't even _try_ to be quiet in there!" came Sweve's exasperated shout.

Tailgate covered his face with his servos, shaking with silent laughter.

"Actually," Cyclonus said, "I did try."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for Deerkota for finishing their work. XD


End file.
